


like winter into spring

by atlantisairlock



Category: Charlie's Angels (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruises, F/F, Face Punching, First Kiss, Kissing, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25623298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock
Summary: Saint doesn't manage to stop Jane from punching Boz in Fatima's clinic in Istanbul. Things change a little bit.
Relationships: Rebekah Bosley/Jane Kano
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	like winter into spring

**Author's Note:**

> so i went to rewatch charlie's angels on netflix because i'm useless lonely and gay and the result of that was this fic. mind your business
> 
> title from 'evolution' by katie sky.

> _"I brought supplies. Homemade kombucha with probiotics. And the best part... I brought a friend."_

She's not expecting a warm welcome when she walks into the clinic. Boz heard, all too clearly, the girls' discussion in their Istanbul hotel, after returning from the quarry, settling on the wrong conclusion that she betrayed the agency. She left them in the middle of a desperate fight without a word of explanation, and she knows that she deserves it, a little. She's sore and exhausted and her ribs ache where John's bullets hit her, and all she wants is to clear the air and make sure Jane and Sabina are all right, then get them on the same page, get out of Istanbul, and save the world. 

She walks in, from behind Saint, and Jane moves so quickly, almost a blur before her eyes. "You traitor," Boz hears, and doesn't move fast enough in return, doesn't have the energy for even muscle memory to pull her into an instinctive block. Jane's fist connects with her face, sending her staggering back a few steps, Saint's shocked yell a dull ringing in her ear as he angles himself to shield her from Jane and make sure she doesn't get punched again. "We trusted you. _I_ trusted you! Saint, let me - you don't know what she's done - "

Her face throbs, the pain a dull ache, mirroring what she feels in her chest, in her heart. Boz gingerly touches her cheek, wincing at the sting she feels when she presses against her cheekbone. "I'm not the mole," she says, softly, forcing herself to look Jane in the eyes and see the anger there. Jane doesn't let up, still smouldering, mistrustful. "Then why are you here?"

"The same reason you are," Boz replies, although that's not all of it - of course it's not, because of what she knows that they don't. What she nearly died trying to do, keeping a real traitor away from the girls, her girls, before he could hurt them. She's here because she would have let herself bleed out on that road at John's hands if it meant keeping them safe. Jane stands before her bruised but alive, expression shifting, something Boz can't parse. She still wants an explanation, they both do. She walks away, moving closer to Sabina's bed again, but her body language is shifting, too. Opening up, relaxing, just the slightest. 

"So then who?" She asks, and Boz feels the barest vestiges of trust beginning to knit themselves together again.

Some of Saint's home-made salve and very strategic application of makeup means that Boz looks completely normal by the time they arrive in Chamonix ready to infiltrate Brok's mansion, although the left side of her face is still aching under the foundation and blush. But she's a Bosley - she can handle it. It's a mere annoyance as she moves through the mansion, discreetly checks in with the other Angels and meets with Johnny. Keeps her more focused, even. 

It still hurts more than it should during the final confrontation, when she lets John put her in a headlock and tackle her to the ground, buying time, orchestrating positions. She pushes past it, like she was always taught in training - watches as everything goes as planned, and John's summarily outclassed.

They've won, they've saved the day. The good guys come out on top once more. 

Charlie has them on a jet back to California within the hour, eager to have debriefings conducted and for the mansion to be cleared of Townsend personnel so their cleaners can go in and handle the cover-up. Sabina declares that she's 'fucking zonked', puts her feet up on a table and promptly goes to sleep. Saint takes Elena to the side to give her a once-over, tutting at the marks around her throat when he removes the golden collar. But Jane - Jane slips quietly into a seat beside her, tracking Boz's movements with sharp eyes until Boz puts her tablet down to face her. "What is it?"

Jane doesn't reply that instant, instead opting to reach hesitantly towards her face and gently, so gently, skim her fingertips against the bruise that's beginning to bloom over her skin. She swallows hard, looking a little stricken. "Does it hurt?"

"It's fine," Boz says - it is. She's been through actual torture before, has shattered bones most people don't know exist while on-ground, in the line of duty. Being punched in the face is nothing compared to that, but Jane still looks at her with all that guilt written on her face. "Boz, I'm - I'm sorry. I really thought... I shouldn't have hurt you. We should've trusted you. I'm sorry." 

Boz resists the urge to reach over and hug her, to apologise too - for leaving them, dropping off the comms, having them running scared and unsure, but she's not sure if Jane would appreciate that kind of reassurance. She smiles instead, as genuine as she can manage. "I'm fine, Jane. Really. It was just a punch." She injects a little mischief into her tone, hoping to make Jane laugh, loosen some of the tension from her muscles. "You can kiss it better if you like. That might help." 

She expects Jane to snort, to shake her head and grin and thank her, to relax. She definitely doesn't expect Jane to inhale, sharp, and move closer. Her hand trembles minutely where she reaches up to cup Boz's cheek, when she leans in and brushes a kiss right where the bruising is most evident. Soft and sweet, lips barely parted. Boz feels her breath stopping in her chest, pupils blown when Jane pulls back to look her in the eyes, palm still resting against her face, fingers brushing her jaw. "Better?"

"Better," Boz agrees, voice dipping lower, the tension thick in the air. She raises her hand to touch two fingers against Jane's lips, barely conscious of the action, and something leaps inside her when Jane makes another sweet, almost wounded sound, her gaze settling on the bow of Boz's mouth. She looks on the verge of coming undone, something nameless breaking between them. Eyes wide, wanting. Boz thinks she knows what she wants too. 

"Can I do that again?" Jane asks, low and breathless. Boz nods wordlessly, and Jane's moving quick again, like Istanbul, but this time in the belly of a jet, high in the sky, closing the distance between them, melting into Boz's embrace when their mouths meet. Jane cups her face again, being careful to avoid the bruise, kissing her hungrily, desperately. Boz can taste her, sweet and smoky, doesn't want to let go. Doesn't want to leave her, ever again. 

Jane smiles against her lips when they finally slow down, when she eases away, just an inch. A slip of a thing, but real, so real. Boz smiles back and touches their foreheads together, her hand finding Jane's and linking their fingers. "I feel better already," she murmurs. "A miracle cure." 

Jane does laugh this time, pressing close against Boz's side and letting Boz rest her head against her shoulder, dropping another kiss against her temple, lingering. "I'm so glad you didn't die there, in Istanbul," she says softly. "I'm so glad you came back to us."

And Boz smiles back, squeezing her hand, feeling the steady beat of Jane's pulse. Both of them breathing, alive, together. Exactly how it's supposed to be. "I came back to you." 


End file.
